


Scotch and Moonlight

by gracefulally



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-03
Updated: 2006-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefulally/pseuds/gracefulally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place between "Darla" and "The Trial." When Angel and his crew don't offer the answer she desires, Darla returns to Lindsey looking for something he can't give her either. She decides to taunt the drunk lawyer anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scotch and Moonlight

The hollow squeak of an old door hinge roused me out of the less-than peaceful confines of my intoxicated sleep. My head felt like it had taken on the size and weight of a blue-ribbon hog and the fresh stiff stubble on my cheek painfully bent inward as I drug it across the damp case of the pillow beneath. I groaned in disgust. Fuck me. I had just wiped myself with my own rank scotch-filled drool.

Pulling my face away from the small puddle, my heavy lids felt like sand paper as they peeled back from my raw eyes to look toward the bothersome noise. The image swam in my barely-conscious vision, but I was certain I saw someone in the room with me. I squinted hard to try and focus. The room was dark and whatever was huddling against my bedroom wall looked to be human, female, and decidedly vapid, undead even. Oh, how fucking hysterical, another dream about some depressed and prophetical fang-face? Goddamnit, Holland was right for once, I needed to get out more. I needed to get my mind on something else. Something “healthy”. To dream about a _human_ in, I don’t know, the next year would be nice.

I always hated the ones that started out so drab and poignant like this anyway. Just get me to the sex already. I knew it wasn’t a wise move to drink that entire bottle of gut-wrenching Red. Johnnie always did bring out the darkest demons of my moody nights. I should have just stuck to my old stand-by and brother in sorrow Jack. With that whiskey in my belly and Emmylou twanging through my head I could make it through anything.

Slowly pushing myself up from the bed, I grimaced at the dizziness of my sluggish head and squinted at the girl once more. My eyes widened a little when I finally came to what senses I could muster. This woman was actually familiar and I knew now that this couldn’t be a dream, she always wore something red and her hair was at least washed for her every appearance in one thus far.

“Darla?” I croaked in a hoarse whisper, my throat dry from the alcohol-induced sleep. “How'd you get in?”

Her chuckle was low and husky. It stung my pride but refreshed the ache for her in my drowsy chest. “You really have had a lot to drink, Lindsey,” she teased. “You told me where to find the key.”

Son of a bitch, I’d forgotten I told her I kept an extra key. It was stuck to the underside of the doormat to the apartment of the old lady next door for when I was too drunk to remember which pocket I had shoved mine into.

However, the fact that she’d found the key still didn’t explain why she was interrupting my perfectly good attempt to drown in my own moody sorrows. “What are you doing here?” I demanded quietly as I wrenched my hand-less wrist beneath the sheets to loosen them from around my naked lower-half that was trapped in a constricting jungle thanks to my likely restless slumber.

Her being here made no sense to me. She should have been off throwing herself at Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Meaty. I just didn’t understand this woman. Ever. Yet she kept coming back. And it killed me that I couldn’t even help her.

Darla watched her own hand run down the wall and through the sliver of moonlight that peaked through the corner of the blinds and flashed across her peaked skin. “I didn’t want to be alone,” she said lamely.

Glancing to the clock at the bedside and seeing that it was four o’clock in the goddamn morning, I sat up further in my bed and ran the heel of my palm over my aching forehead, making my bracelet jangle. “How can you be alone? I thought Angel-“

“Angel isn’t here, Lindsey,” she snapped angrily. A cloud started to pass over the moon and the crack of silver glimmer that washed over her tired form was slowly siphoned off until the room was pitched into blackness once more. “Why do you care about him? Aren’t you happy that I came back? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Damn it, I never said the right thing with her. For some reason Angel was always a tense subject between us. When I let my hand fall from my forehead, I leaned back on the arm and lightly sucked on my parched bottom lip as I considered my words carefully.

“I didn’t know they were setting you up, Darla,” I said with a firm tone and look in her direction though I could no longer see her face. “They played me too. It’s just what that place does. They mess with your head. And to tell you the truth,” I sniffed in a huffed air and nearly chuckled at my own absurdity, “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

The dim outline of Darla suddenly moved away from the wall and I blinked in an attempt to find her in the darkness once more. I felt the bed tip when it creaked under a new weight and I knew I was no longer alone in those sheets. A searching hand found and gripped my covered knee before she moved closer, allowing those fingers to glide up my thigh and pause on the edge of the sheets that rested on my belly. I tensed in surprise when venturing lips brushed across my bare chest and my breath hitched at the vicious flick of her tongue teasing my collar bone.

The groan that rumbled in my chest was strangled by my attempt to reach up and push her away, which happens to be fucking impossible when you have only one capable hand and it’s currently busy propping your weight. All I accomplished was dumbly dragging my useless stub across her fingers that were twisting in the sheets at my middle. She seemed to take this as gesture of encouragement as her lips and tiny nose were soon grinding their way up my throat. When her clammy cheek was resting against my already flush one, the breaths each of us took were becoming ragged and dangerous.

This was wrong. I knew it. I had never acted on my feelings for her until yesterday because it felt like I was taking advantage of the situation. She was so damn desperate, needy even. And what she needed was Angel. Not me. Kissing her had been a mistake, but somehow in that moment I had lost all my self control. I had forgotten her purpose, who I was, and who I worked for. There had been nothing but my want and need to console this helpless woman and my desire to give Darla anything and everything she had ever wanted, both of which had obliterated my resolve. Now, as her tangled blonde locks tickled my shoulders and stuck fast to my neck while her body flattened readily against mine in a lascivious appeal for something to hold her tight, I could feel that rigid slate of self control leaving me again.

Wrapping her wrist with my forearm and loosely pulling it into the crook of my elbow, I did my best to forcefully lift her wandering hand away from my lap. “Darla…” I managed for a final quiet plea to bring some sanity back to that moment.

I wanted to tell her that this didn’t have to happen. That she was just upset and lost. That she needed someone to show her compassion at her struggle to live with a soul and that try as I might, that person would never be me. But the words didn’t come. They were too jumbled in my head and I was too drunk to sort them out. And a part of me began to wonder if I even wanted to say them, to stop this from happening.

Darla pressed herself closer to roughly pull the sheets under her toes and calve over mine in an arousing caress. I could feel her lips smile against my jaw line in response to my involuntary grunt and sigh of frustration. “I won’t bite this time, Lindsey.”

The promise was less than reassuring as my neck still bore the angry mark from her work the day before, but somewhere deep in my confusing mind I was begging her to do it again. Pain like that was the only way I remembered I was still human anymore, that I wasn’t a machine just going through the motions.

That husky chuckle of hers rolled across my senses like a licking flame once more as she untangled her hand from my grip and slipped it under the sheet to tease her nails across one hip and then travel slyly to the other. “Well, won't bite as hard anyway,” she added in a delicious little growl.

A pinch into the meat of my inner thigh was what finally brought the sharp inhale of insanity as my lips pressed hungrily to hers. The hand immediately left it’s hideaway of teasing my leg as she clamored to straddle my lap, her arms snaking around my neck to pull my mouth up to crush against hers. My hand found the flat of her back to steady us both in her lustful pounce. I knew I had to taste disgusting with all the alcohol I had to drink, but she didn’t seem to care as she let her tongue explore my lips and my jaw lowered to deepen the breathless embrace. I let out a pleased groan against her throat when she pressed her hips downward. My mind started to go fuzzy with the booze and lack of sufficient air, but I didn’t want her to stop. Then she started in with the taunting.

“You’re scared, Lindsey,” she panted before I cut her off with another kiss. She angrily wrenched a handful of my hair back and I could see a challenging fire burning in her gaze even in the low light. “You’re scared of being a man and taking what you want. You’re scared of what he’ll do if he finds out.”

Hissing her quiet, my own fingers found her hair and I could feel the tension in her neck relent as I kneaded the tight muscle there. A heated moment of our hunger passed before Darla pulled back once more. “You always worry about what he thinks,” the angry rasp in her throat was enough to make my mind stir from its swimming stupor. “What _he_ wants. What about what you want, Lindsey?”

Glowering at her, I didn’t answer. Darla always had to press the subject of Angel. Like me, she couldn’t just let it alone. “Is it even me that you want?” She furiously demanded with another tug at my hair that was more arousing than it should be. “Or am I just your place card for bigger, better, and _broodier_ things?”

Fuck this Angel bullshit. I’d enough of her mouth for one night. She damn well knew I hated that meat head and what he did to me. What he was doing to her. I was tired of these mind games. I was a lawyer, damn it, not a fucking play toy for the undead and crazy.

“Shut up, Darla,” I snarled, finally losing myself to the moment. "I mean it." Her throat caught to my shoulder when I angrily thrust her back to the bed in an awkward one-armed flip.

As if she had been expecting it, Darla clung onto me and even laughed as I shoved her down. With a warning glare I kicked my way out of the blankets before I settled over her. Her palm massaged where she had bit my neck previously, reminding me what she was capable of, as the long fingers of her opposite hand brushed the mussed locks of hair from my eyes.

“That’s a good boy, Lindsey,” she said softly in an approving purr. “I knew I could always count on you.”


End file.
